


Southern Heat

by kye_16



Category: Shadow Unit, The Lone Gunmen (TV)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Thirty years of unrequited lust, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kye_16/pseuds/kye_16
Summary: Chasing a lead landed the intrepid Gunmen in hot, anomalous waters. An "anonymous" tip to the ACTF sorted the situation out post-haste, but in the wake of it all, Langly finds himself with a very different dilemma on his hands...Yes, this is just an excuse for a hot three-way. I'd apologize if it gets out of hand, but lbr, we all know why we're here.The italicized memory lines are cribbed directly from Vanity and Vexation canon ("L is for Love Letters", chapter 18).That's right, Pen,you're canon here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ambiguously_anomalous](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ambiguously_anomalous) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
> 
> Langly gets drunk enough that Byers is hot. Someone else gets caught in the middle of this. (Suggestions are the rest of the character tags.)

    Thirty years of doing this job, and Langly was somehow still not used to the degree of fucked-up shit the world could produce. Wasn’t the part where people had weird-ass powers. Wasn’t the part where he had weird-ass powers himself, apparently. Mostly it was the part where people (with or without them) continued to extort and torture that still got to him. Just when he thought he’d seen it all, some fuckwit somewhere would find some new way to exercise insanity, and he’d be right back to feeling like that wet-behind-the-ears kid from 1989. And now… well, now he apparently had a similar fate breathing down his neck. He drained the second half of his third mai tai, looking around for the server.

    Fight the monster, or be the monster… where was the third option, here?

    His foot tapped an impatient staccato against the table leg. This was supposed to have been easy recon. He hadn’t tried to bring Reid. They’d even considered leaving Frohike behind, as the only one without a new ID. _That_ had worked well -- here he sat instead, trading war stories with former SSA Solomon Todd over scotch. (“Someone’s got to take the pictures and do the thinking,” he’d insisted.)

    Langly’s eyes drifted over to where Byers sat a few seats down, hand around a clear drink in a short glass. Chaz Villette sat across the corner from him, gesturing as he spoke, face animated by topic or tonic. Or both, Langly supposed. That was when he’d known the shit had really hit the fan; they sure as hell hadn’t planned on needing to call the WTF. Chaz was only a few years younger than Reid, and Langly could definitely see the resemblance between this tall, lanky genius and his own. Shit, and there was a thought he’d been avoiding. The lopsided grin and dark hair were just the start, but it was the mannerisms that really got him: the awkward observations, the cerebral sense of humour. And shit, it _did not help_ to remember that Reid saw the appeal. That was a visual he was having trouble getting out of his head, and just now he really did not need to be thinking about the way one tall, dark, handsome fed would look curled around the other.

 _This is not the time to cruise the new guy, man_. His eyes swept back to safer territory as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The denim wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he’d worn worse.

    The story had apparently come to a high point, and he watched familiar creases form on Byers’s face as he grinned. Small folds at his eyes betrayed his age, even as his cheekbones had managed to maintain some of their softness. His lips parted in laughter, neatly cropped facial hair hiding the lines that framed his mouth. A mouth he’d known almost as long as his own, at this point.

 _‘I agree with Byers,’_ his brain unhelpfully supplied, before skidding to a complete halt. _‘You do smell nice.’_

    Langly blinked. The arousal he’d meant to derail skipped the track, all right. He almost choked on his tongue as Byers raised his glass to his lips. Silver watch on his wrist as the sleeve of his suit pulled back. Firm grip, movement in his throat, intense eyes --

    Langly jolted upright out of his seat, barely catching the chair as it clattered backward. Most of the table looked at him and he tried desperately not to look at Byers, whose hand he could apparently imagine on his shoulders. On his hips. On his -- _oh no._

    His gaze skidded sideways to see Chaz, eyes wide, staring straight back at him. He felt like six feet of Lust Exposed under those eyes. _Fuck._ He was an open book. _Fuck_. Chaz knew he was eyeballing Byers! Well at least he didn’t know -- _Fuck!!_ He blinked a few dozen times as Chaz began to flush. _Why is it so hard to NOT think the shit you shouldn’t think, when you shouldn’t think it?!_ His brain was on a roll now, and the longer people stared, the worse it got. Byers’s throat under his lips. Chaz’s body pressed against his own, mouth open and panting. In his mind he smelled like Reid, had the same sharp hips under his hands --

    “You okay, Langly?” Frohike had that look on his face, his patented blend of concern and suspicion, and he couldn’t take it.

    “Gotta -- I mean… I’ll be right back.” More booze. More booze, and more food. Holy hell, he was hungry.

 

************************************************

 

    It turned out that another three mai tais were not, in fact, the solution to Langly’s problem. Problems? Whichever.

    They’d swept the hotel room for any kind of surveillance equipment when they’d first landed, but it didn’t stop Langly from checking and rechecking for signal now. Flashes of data streamed by in every direction, almost dizzying. It made for a nice, if insufficient, distraction from the warm bodies they passed.

    Langly wouldn’t have chosen to bring everyone back to the sitting area of their unreasonably large room. But then, no one had asked him, had they? _‘The word is subtlety, Langly,’_ Frohike had chided him, _‘and subtle you are not.’_ So here they made him sit instead. At least in a room full of paranoid people, the plush, heavy armchair near the patio doors had been easy to claim.

    Of course, the room had also gotten less full distressingly quickly. Two other ACTF agents had swung by to claim Sol Todd -- a strapping blond cowboy and a dangerously pleasant Asian American woman -- around the end of Langly’s fourth drink. Frohike had changed shortly afterward into his “evening wear” -- a collared shirt with leather vest, leather fingerless gloves, and black leather belt -- and though he’d been peripherally engaged in conversation before that, he was out the door by the time Langly had finished his fifth drink.

    Alone with Chaz and Byers, Langly’s sixth drink was gone inside of ten minutes.

    And Byers was… well, Byers. He’d had the better part of one eye on Langly since he’d caused that small scene at the bar, and damn him, but he couldn’t let shit go sometimes. Langly would find himself starting to relax, only to catch the way Byers’s eyes glittered or the way his pants folded up between his thighs, and he’d be catching a side-look again as he stared quietly into the coffee table. He’d space out to watch data current, only for Byers to catch him at it and give him that concerned face, the one with the little furrow between his eyebrows, and Langly would have to give him a pathetically weak smile (grimace?) and rejoin the conversation. He was a damned observant bastard at the best of times, and he’d known Langly entirely too long for him to think he was getting away with anything.

    “You’d think we’d have known better by then, but no. Still managed to get our asses hauled halfway across the state before we had to be rescued -- and this is true -- by an internationally wanted criminal.” Chaz snickered into his glass, in no small part at the way Byers’s face still fell in disappointment all these years later. “And I mean sure, she got us out, but we’re lucky she left us our own _pants_. Turns out the group we’d been investigating was one of her marks. She walked away with everything but a single scrap of evidence.”

    “Shitty, circumstantial evidence at best,” muttered Langly.

    “Not that you’ve held a grudge.” One corner of Byers’s mouth quirked up.

    “It’s not a _grudge_ if she’s still -- I mean -- look, yes she may have gotten us out of that mess --” Byers’s eyebrows raised innocently as he sipped at the dregs of his vodka tonic “-- but Yves was still a _bitch_. She caused at least as much trouble as she got us out of, and that is a fact.” Langly pointed accusingly at him, hoping his finger was steady.

    “She _has_ saved our lives, don’t forget. And the life of my father.”

    “Half the time, it was her fault we even even needed saving!” Byers straightened on the couch, squaring his shoulders.

    “Langly, that is not even remotely true. I can’t tell if you’re bitter, drunk, or if your memory is really just getting shitty with age.”

    “Still remember more than you want me to. Isn’t that the important part?” A couple beats fell before Byers rolled his eyes and looked away, refusing to rise to the taunt.

    “And before that train of thought runs away with you, please, excuse me.” He straightened his shirt and open suit jacket as he stood, tugging at creases that would never be just tugged out. Sparing a moment’s thought, he crossed the room and put one hand on Langly’s shoulder. Chaz pulled out his phone in a semblance of disinterest, averting his eyes, the very picture of politesse.

    ‘ _I_ _'m sorry, Byers said_ what _?_ ’ Langly cursed his memory silently. Couldn’t remember if his socks matched, but even six drinks later he still remembered that conversation with Reid clear as day. Byers looked down at him, face open with compassion, confusion, concern, and for a moment, it was almost too much. He reached a hand up, placed it over Byers’s own, and gave a gentle squeeze. He wasn’t convinced the look on his face was reassuring, but for better or worse, Byers seemed to accept it. Giving him a small nod, he left the sitting area for the bathroom, leaving Chaz and Langly alone across the coffee table.

    “I’m sorry.” Chaz pinched the bridge of his nose, phone forgotten.

    “It’s fine.”

    “I didn’t mean to --”

    “ _I_ _t’s fine_.”

    “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just a little paranoid. I swear.”

    “Totally reasonable. All fine.”

    “Tell that to your body language.” And shit, he wasn’t wrong. At some point Langly had tucked his legs up into the chair, his arms apparently crossing themselves in front of him in the absence of another drink. He unfolded himself with slow, deliberate movements, clearing his throat as he tried again.

    "I’m not upset with you. I swear. New gamma gets weird, especially in a public place full of civilians? You were covering our asses, and everyone else’s. I get it. It’s…” He splayed his toes against the cool floor. Socks didn’t match after all.

    “It’s fine,” Chaz finished for him, his tone dry and clearly dissatisfied. “Really. It was a huge invasion of privacy.” Langly barked a laugh at that, a short, self-conscious choking sound.

    “And I am _very sorry_ , by the way, for what I’m sure you saw.”

    “And yet, so much better than it could have been. You flatter me.” A better laugh that time, more genuine, even as it was was followed by Langly’s groan into his hands. Chaz leaned back, crooked grin on his face. “I mean, I’m good, but _damn_. I don’t think that’s how physiology works.”

    “Actually… yeah, it’s not far off.”

    “ _What?_ ” Chaz’s jaw dropped a little. Langly dropped his hands, but still refused to meet Chaz’s eyes.

    “Look, I  actually _am_ flexible, okay??”

    “It’s not just that, and you know it.” Langly cackled.

    “I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, most of what I was thinking was based on memory. I thought I had an imagination until Reid.” He smiled in spite of himself, gazing off into the depths of the impersonal furnishings. “Fast as I can think it up, he makes it happen, and then some.”

    In the spirit of diplomacy, Chaz opted not to say the first thing that came to mind. “Sounds like your arrangement works well,” he opted instead. “And I can’t say I blame you, if half of what I saw _actually happens_. That was… quite a slideshow.” He schooled his face into something halfway neutral as some very graphic memories slid across his mind’s eye. Langly didn’t need to tell him. He’d already seen a couple of those from the other side, rather unintentionally. But if pretending helped, it helped, and he wouldn’t contest that.

    “Still sorry for it.”

    “And I say again, flattered.” He stood up, grabbing Langly’s glass along with his own as Langly gave a loose nod. “I’ll mix it, but you’ll have to have it without the tiny umbrella.”

    “Hard to find good help these days. Water?” He grinned as Chaz pitched him a sealed bottle, which promptly ended up in his lap. “Your aim is shit.”

    “My aim is fine. Your hands are drunk.” Langly laughed as he cracked the bottle and took a deep drink. Chaz tipped two types of liquor and some gaudy-coloured mix into the glass. “Is it helping?”

    “Is what helping?”

    “The rum.” He gestured with the garish cocktail.

    ”With?” Langly cocked an eyebrow, taking another swig. Chaz grabbed another beer and kicked the mini-fridge closed, drinks in hand.

    “Byers.” The wet, sputtering noise that came from Langly’s face was nothing short of painful.  He hacked and choked, water dripping onto his shirt and soaking into his pants. Chaz at least had the decency to look contrite. “Sorry.”

    “You trying to kill me?” He snatched the proffered glass, still coughing too hard to take more than a small mouthful. “Byers is not -- I mean, we aren’t -- there’s no Byers. And I. Not like that.”

    “So _not_ helping, then.” His face was measured, studious, even as Langly’s screwed itself about in distress.

    “Why would -- I mean, really… _Ugh_ . There is exactly _zero point_ in lying to you, isn’t there?” He dropped his head back against the chair, focusing intently on the nearest wall. Chaz shrugged.

    “There is if it helps.”

    “So far nothing else has. Don’t see why that would be any different.” He sipped his drink miserably.

    “How long? Just tonight? I mean, I didn’t see much, but it didn’t feel like a ‘just tonight’ thing.”

    “No.” Langly sighed, shutting his eyes. “It’s not just tonight.” There was a tired weight to the words that spoke volumes.

    “It’s not even just recent,” Chaz realized, failing to keep the surprise entirely off his face. He paused as something caught the corner of his gaze, his head turning.

    “I mean, to be fair, it kind of is?” Langly paid him no mind. “I mean, when we first all got together there was -- well, not a _thing_ , but I got over it.”

    “Actually, Langly --”

    “And hell, live with someone platonically for a few decades and you really don’t think about it, but then Reid came along and all of a sudden it was like, _bam_ , I was awake again, you know? And suddenly there was Byers again.”

    “Langly.”

    “Like I hadn’t thought about it in ages. Hadn’t thought about _anyone_ in ages. Still usually don’t. But every once in a while -- I mean, he gets this little look on his face when he’s really concentrating on something. And you should see him when he tells gets all righteous and finally tells people off, like he thinks he’s seven foot tall and bulletproof. It’s really adorable, but also really fuckin’ hot.”

    “Okay man, but --”

    “And let me tell you, it really gets your wires crossed when you’re horny as hell and you’ve had to share the same cramped little room for _days_ , and you can smell the bastard, just barely, but you can. And the heat is radiating off him because he won’t wear anything practical, and it’s his ass in those tailored pants, and the tie, _oh_ , the _tie_ , it’s just screaming for you to wrap it around your fist and --”

    “Richard. Langly! _Ringo!_ ” Langly stopped, one hand out in front of him in a vaguely crude gesture, finally focusing on Chaz again.

    “Right. Sorry. You’ve… probably seen enough of that for one night.” Chaz rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head.

    “I think it’s safe to say you’ve made your point. I would like to ask a quick follow-up question, though.” Langly shrugged.

    “I’m an open book.”

    “How do you think Byers would take this?”

    “Seriously? Byers isn’t even into dudes. God, he…” Langly played with the drink in his hand, his colour slowly draining. The room was dead silent, even where he rubbed one sock-clad foot against the floor. “He’s awful quiet in there, isn’t he?”

    Chaz sucked at his teeth, fingers clinking against his beer bottle. Langly looked down, stomach churning.

    “Safe to say the bathroom’s open if I need to puke, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, man. Yeah, it is.”

    Langly paused. His brain screamed at him to run. His ass was nailed to the chair. His guts were making a respectable effort to evacuate the building through his mouth, though, and his brain almost won as he shoved himself up and started for the bathroom. His legs and feet, however, were apparently on the same side as his ass (the traitors), and the sight of Byers standing at the entry to the sitting room was enough to stop him in his tracks. He wanted to believe he’d have been able to keep his mouth shut if he hadn’t been drinking, but when had shutting up ever been a talent of his?

    “I should go.” Chaz stood, pocketing his phone as quietly as he could.

    “This isn’t a joke.” He may as well have not been in the room. Byers was looking at Langly, his voice low and his face all but inscrutable. Langly was fidgeting in place, one hand clenching awkwardly at his side as he looked anywhere but at Byers. The two of them now stood between Chaz and the door, though, and so he waited. “If this is a joke, Ringo, it isn’t funny.”

    Langly looked away, chewing at his bottom lip. Byers took a few deep breaths, ruffling and smoothing his facial hair as he thought.

    “You weren’t going to tell me.”

    “I’m not an _idiot_.” He winced even as the words came out of his mouth.

    “An idiot.” Byers folded his arms, eyebrow raised.

    “You know what I mean.”

    “Would you believe it? Right now, I really don’t.”

    Call it occupational hazard, but Chaz couldn’t help watching their body language. Byers was trying to focus, to wear openness on his face, but his fingers were twitching where he had them tucked in and his breathing fluttered, quick and shallow. And even standing, one of Langly’s legs was starting to bounce so hard it was a miracle he was managing to stay upright.

    The silence stretched as Langly rubbed at the back of his neck. Forget the dropping of a pin; Chaz could hear the electrical impulses firing past his cochleae.

    “Okay. I can’t handle this. Someone fucking _say something._ ”

    Langly rolled his eyes with a snort.

    “That is not helpful.” Byers redirected his gaze at Chaz. Unhelpful, he said, but he’d successfully snapped the tension, hadn’t he? Byers relaxed his posture, and Langly turned to grab for his drink. Chaz moved back to the mini-fridge with an unrepentant shrug.

    “Don’t take it out on him. It’s not his fault.” Langly took a bracing swig of rum. “You’re my best friend, Byers. And yes, sometimes I _am_ an idiot, thanks for noticing, but I wasn’t about to ruin everything we’ve built -- everything _the three of us have built_ \-- for the sake of a hard-on.” Byers laughed, a small thing. He didn’t watch as Chaz poured out more vodka, though Chaz was watching him.

    “Langly, you cannot seriously think I would throw away our friendship over… _that_.” He gestured vaguely at Langly’s lower torso, absolutely not looking as he did. “After all we’ve been through together?”

    “Only because you don’t know what I want to do with it,” Langly deadpanned.

    “Oh my god.”

    “Or what I want you to do with it.”

    “ _Jesus_ , Langly!” Langly shrugged, swirling his (admittedly perfect) mai tai before taking a drink. Chaz peeled an embarrassed hand off Byers’s face and slid a refreshed vodka tonic into it.

    “Well if we’re talking about it, we may as well _actually talk about it_.” The somewhat drunken shit-eating grin was back in place now. “First things first. It’s called a penis. There are many like it, but this one is mine.”

    “You are so infantile.” The rising colour in Byers’s cheeks stood at odds with his tone. “And there is nothing to talk about.”

    “Which is why I never mentioned it. Like I said, I know you’re not into it. I…” Something was knocking again at the slow door in his brain. The thing which had been there most of the night, the one he’d been failing miserably to drown in rum.

_"I agree with Byers. You do smell good." Reid smiling, cute little wrinkle on the bridge of his nose._

_"I'm sorry, Byers said what? … I'm not drunk enough for him to think I smell nice. And just so you know, if I am that drunk? I make no promises about my willingness to say 'no' more than once."_

    Langly cocked his head, face smoothing out, eyeing him, scrutinizing. Byers had seen that look many times while watching him work, deep down the rabbit hole, screens flashing as he chased leads. He didn’t much fancy being the focus of it now.

    “I mean, you’re _not_ into it, right?” His eyes narrowed. Byers took a deep gulp of his vodka. Chaz straddled the arm of the couch, beer in hand, and considered making popcorn.

    “Even if I was -- and I’m not saying I am -- you couldn’t seriously expect me to act on it.”

    “Hypocrite.” Langly scoffed.

    “You’re _drunk_ , Langly.”

    “We’re all drunk here, _Byers_. Are you?”

    “Am I what? Drunk?” Byers feigned ignorance, desperately grateful for the fresh drink as he tried to wash down the nerves in his throat.

    “Into it. Are you,” Langly took a step closer, “or are you not,” another step, “fucking _turned on_ by the idea of getting your hands on me?”

    Byers swallowed, hard. No matter how much he put into himself, his throat still felt dry. Langly’s eyes were a burning weight on him. He toyed with the glass in his hands, but to his credit, he didn’t look away. On the other hand, to his shame, he couldn’t force a single word out, and so there he stood.

    Langly’s face began to quiet.

    “Shit. Right, then.”

    Byers made a small, aborted gesture toward Langly as that intense expression folded back in. Langly didn’t notice; Chaz, however, did.

    “Mother of mercy, deliver me. This is painful. I can’t watch this anymore.” He set his bottle aside with a shake of his head. “It’s like watching a couple teenagers. Someone’s going to lose an eye before anyone admits they’re harder than granite, and in the end, everyone goes home unhappy and tries to be quiet as they can while they jerk off alone.” He took a deep breath, centering his mind on this room, this moment. He let every detail seep into his perception -- the smudge on the TV, that one picture frame that didn't match, the way both men were standing crooked to give them more room against their pants -- and held the edge of the mirror as steady as he could. “I already know what Langly wants. Byers, _you_ already know what Langly wants, and if you were listening at all, you know how long he’s wanted it.”

    “Thanks, man.” Langly shot daggers in his direction, but Chaz brushed it off.

    “So in the spirit of openness, I ask you. John Byers, how badly do you want this man?” And with that, he tipped the corner of the mirror over and peered into the man before him.

 _Peering over Langly’s shoulder, watching his hands, the way they worked, the way they almost always seemed to find their mark. Watching the way the tendons moved, the smooth flexure of the muscle in his arms. That cocksure grin he got when he knew he was right, or at least was about to be right, and the way it cut lines around his mouth in a way that could have been dimples if he’d ever learned how to follow the rules. The definition of lithe muscle in his back, walking around topless after a shower, hair raked to one side and still glistening. Curled up against him, the slow rise and fall of his chest, warm and comforting. The smell of coffee and Jolt, the same laundry detergent he’d been using for years, and of the conditioner he insisted he couldn’t live without. And the sounds -- oh, the_ sounds _he made -- panting, groaning, begging, demanding, wanton and gluttonous. Trying to fall asleep, stiff as a board, reciting the Constitution to himself in his mind, pretending he couldn’t hear. Pretending he wasn’t imagining the faces that must go with those sounds…_

    “You are a hopeless fucking romantic, you know that?” Chaz grinned as Byers nearly choked on his tongue, eyes falling to the floor, and there it was all of a sudden.

    The shame. The _guilt_. He wanted, oh he wanted, all right, but he would never cross that line on his own. _Chaz stepping up behind him, hard angles, radiating heat behind him. Making him do it. Realization, gratification without fault. Lust, filthy, every time he looked. Sharp eyes, long fingers -- stop bringing hot feds home, Langly!_

    Chaz snapped the mirror back in, hard and fast, making Byers stagger.

    “I’m sorry!” One hand flew to his mouth. Chaz shook his head.

    “Don’t be. Really.”

    “I am, I am so sorry.”

    “Nothing to be sorry for. You were the first, you know.”

    “But I -- what?” Byers was clutching his glass for all he was worth.

    “Your hot fed problem. You were the first. You were the first hot fed he brought home, Byers.” Byers shot Chaz a glare at that, but at least he stopped apologizing. Chaz climbed off the edge of the couch and approached, stopping just shy of arm’s length from Byers. “I’m not going to make you do it. _Not that there is anything wrong with that,_ in proper context --” he pinned him with a glare, “but we don’t have that kind of relationship, and now is not the time. That said… I will absolutely help you pop the lock off some of that baggage, _if_ that’s what you want.”

    Langly was dead silent. He watched expressions he knew well flash across Byers’s face -- the way his cheeks tightened when he was self-conscious, that furrow of indignation -- as well as a couple he was definitely less familiar with. He watched as Chaz extended a hand to him, sucking in a breath as Byers considered it. Chaz had the beginning of a grin already, and flashed a small wink at Langly as Byers tentatively reached out and accepted the hand. He took the last step into Byers’s space, angling his head to give Langly a view of his neck.

 _Cheater._ But he didn’t move. He could barely breathe as he watched Byers close the distance, letting his eyes slide close as their lips touched, the tension in his shoulders uncoiling slowly, fingers curling around Chaz’s wrist where their hands met. He kissed like a romantic, too, mouth barely opening, lips soft and unsurprisingly tentative; not chaste, but polite. No -- not polite. Not with the way his bottom lip quivered, the first touch of his tongue, not with the way his breath stuttered out of him as he tried not to moan into the touch. That was _restraint_. That was --

    Son of a bitch. That was Chaz broadcasting. He was catching glimmers, the smallest refractions… like light off a mirror, dancing against the wall.

    Chaz pulled back, mimicking the same gentle motion he’d been offered as he straightened. He took Byers’s drink out of his hand and took a step back, letting go with a pointed look at Langly. _Go on, then_. Byers followed his gaze, open and uncertain, and Langly made sure to pick his jaw up off the floor before he tried to speak.

    “Just so you know, in the absence of psychic powers, I’m gonna need you to be a little more verbal.” Taking Chaz’s lead, he extended a hand slowly into the space between them. Chaz took the opportunity to nick his drink as well. “I’ve gotta know. Do you want this?”

    Byers licked his lips and, ever so tentatively, stepped into Langly’s space and accepted the proffered hand. He gave a ghost of a nod and cleared his throat, trying twice before managing to get the words out.

    “Yes. I… I do. God, I have wanted this way more than I ever should have.” The confession was as a weight falling to the floor, dragging his shoulders with it. Langly slid his other now-free hand up against the perfectly groomed hair that framed the soft lines of Byers’s face. Slow and cautious, waiting to see if he would change his mind and push back, Langly curled his fingers around the back of his neck, slid a thumb up the side of his jaw, and closed the rest of the distance between them.

    Oh, and it was _so_ much more satisfying that he’d anticipated. Byers all but melted against him. A hand found his hip, fingers digging in ever so slightly. The other moved from Langly’s hand up up to his own face before curling into his hair, and damned if Byers had ever done anything so sexually forward in his life but he kissed like he was making up for time lost, every breath a failed moan against Langly’s mouth as he flicked his tongue out to taste him, mirroring his motions with an intensity he’d have expected out of Reid but never in a million years out of Byers. And sure as hell, never for _him_.

    Langly shook his head as they parted, discovering he’d curled his arms around Byers at some point and was holding him close in a way the church would _definitely_ not have approved of. His lips curled out into a grin as he shot a look between the man in his arms and the one to his side, one eyebrow raised at Chaz.

    “You in?”

    Chaz took a deep swallow of his beer, undid the top button on his shirt with a shrug, and gave Langly a grin and a nod.

    “Well then what say we make the most of this, before one of us comes to our senses?”


	2. Chapter 2

     Langly curled his hips, back flexing against the white cotton weave beneath him. His breath caught as he watched Byers watching him -- fear, arousal, anticipation fluttering in the back of his throat -- but he wasn’t about to look away. He’d seen him topless before, but never had he dare watch the way his muscles clenched under the small layer of belly fat he’d grown living in a bunker. The muscles in his arms had never looked as appealing as they did right now, tightening slightly as he stroked himself, watching the way Langly was spread out before him. It was almost surreal, and he doubled down on blaming the drink. He really hoped he’d be able to look at Byers again after this.

     Byers swallowed hard, working the lube onto himself almost absentmindedly as he stepped up to the edge of the bed. A joke about hairy legs died on his tongue as he followed those legs up to where Langly’s dick bobbed against his belly. He was doing this. God above, he was going to fuck a man he’d known for thirty years, for the first time, in an overpriced hotel room in New Orleans. He wavered on drunk legs, stilling almost immediately as long fingers came to rest against the small of his back.

     “First time’s always a little nerve-wracking.” He took a few deep breaths as some quality third-party calm seeped into him. Chaz stepped into his space, eyes straying over Byers’s shoulder as he leaned close, breathing in the sweat and vodka. “Take your time. Believe me, your boy isn’t going _anywhere_.” Byers looked at him then, eyes flicking up to meet Langly’s briefly before Langly looked away.

     “Take any longer and he might.” He squirmed against the bed, availing himself of the radiant calm in the room. Sprawled along the bed like this, shirt rucked halfway up his belly, legs and hips and junk on display for the men watching him, he felt like an exhibit. This was not how he normally did things. Well, _okay_ , it was how he and Special Agent Sexy occasionally did things, but that was hardly the norm. Or was it? He’d be fucked if he knew what normal looked like anymore. Actually, he’d be _fucked_ if Byers would stop staring already and just -- _ohh_ \-- _ohhhhh fuck,_ “Yes, _fuck, yes --_ “

     Chaz had his right hand on the small of Byers’s back, pads of his fingers kneading, rubbing small, light strokes along his pelvis as Byers started to push in. He watched as his jaw slackened, breath stuttering, air punched out of him as Langly's body gave barely enough room for the first inch, and Chaz decided to let himself reach out just a little. Just enough soak up the heady rush of lust and pleasure that was finally beginning to override the nerves in the room, to taste a new kind of tension as Byers's pulse beat strong and steady against his lips, driving his blood further away from his good sense. He pulled back ever so slightly before pushing forward again and Chaz’s fingers curled, his breath hot against the curve of Byers’s neck, a moan dying in his throat.

     Langly tried to stretch out and hook his leg around Byers, succeeding only in kicking him in the arm. “Please, fucking hell, bury it in me already. If I have to wait for this any longer I will _kick your ass_ , I swear to god.” Byers finally broke with a laugh, a weak, startled noise.

     “Is there anything in this world you won’t mouth off about?” His hands slid up the backs of Langly’s thighs, grin uncharacteristically askew. Chaz stretched out his spare arm, curling his fingers over Byers's where they lay against Langly. Words died on Byers's lips as Langly clenched around him, his shoulders rolling back into the bed, eyes fluttering in wordless noise as hard flesh sunk into his ass. Byers pulled back once more, and with a deep breath and a curl of his hips buried himself up to the hilt.

     A liquid moan poured out of the man impaled on him. Byers rocked into him ever so slightly -- once, twice, three times -- and watched wide-eyed as Langly panted for breath, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out over his chest.

     “Is -- is this okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Langly’s eyes shot open in a blurred attempt to see the concern on Byers’s face. A hint of concern ghosted over him -- the tall, dark fed tucked against him was still broadcasting, and for one exceedingly bizarre moment, he could feel the weight of his own eyes on himself, through another. _How fucking weird_.

     “Byers.” Langly’s voice had an edge of warning to it. “If you don’t want to do this -- man, I am not gonna make you, and I never would. But you are fucking _balls-deep_ _in my ass_.” Even without his glasses, the bright red flush on Byers’s face was unmistakable. “If you want out -- _fuck, man_ \-- if you want to walk away, do it, but otherwise, please.” He draped his arm over his eyes, and muttered the rest into the darkness. “Just fuck me into this mattress already, would you?” Chaz dropped his forehead against Byers and began to cackle. Byers just shook his head.

     “I think that’s your cue,” Chaz murmured, lips soft against the skin under Byers’s ear. It made him shiver, his neck stretching in subconscious offering. Chaz opened his hand against the small of Byers’s back, trailing it along his pelvis and just lightly over the curve of his ass, and Byers began to rock.

     For whatever reason, Langly hadn’t expected this to be so different from the other two men he’d had. Fucking _cautious_ was the first word that came to mind. The press of Byers’s hips was slow and shallow, leaving him mostly buried as he felt his way along. Turns out cautious wasn’t quite the word for it, though, once they started going. Where Kimmy had been messy and Reid was passionate, Byers was _sensual_. He pulled out further and further, rolling his hips more than thrusting, curling himself over Langly as he watched. His hands, shy at first, weren’t still for long. He stroked the inside of Langly’s thighs, trailed down along his ass, up across his body. Langly writhed and Byers moaned; Langly tightened and Byers arched upward, panting, eyes falling shut.

     Arousal rose as a tide in the room, an insatiable hunger with a faint undercurrent of… envy? Chaz slowly came into focus as he folded one long leg onto the bed, easing himself up next to Langly. His hand had slid from Byers’s back at some point, and was now trailing up Langly’s body. Langly caught said hand by the wrist as it ghosted along the hem of his shirt, a sharp, half-intended motion, before his mouth fell open into a long, garbled groan.

     “Holy shit,” Chaz murmured, hand dead still. “Whatever you just did, do that again.” Byers answered with a breathy laugh. He edged his feet a little further apart and all but undulated, one hand on Langly’s ass to keep him in place as he alternated slow drags with sharper, angled snaps of his hips. The look on his face said he was glad to oblige, even as his jaw tightened with the exertion of self-control.

     “The hair,” Byers suggested with a nod. “Try the hair.” Chaz grinned, an odd, crooked thing. For as much as it looked as if he was nodding in agreement, Byers couldn’t help the feeling that it wasn’t his words the young fed was responding to. Still, he managed to get his hand back from Langly, who had successfully opened his eyes again to watch that face turn to him.

     “Here,” he murmured, sliding further up. “On the bed, all the way.”

     It should have been a simple enough endeavour, but for the way the hard liquor had dulled their limbs. Byers tried to nudge his way onto the bed without letting go. Langly tried to wriggle upward on his elbows, pinning his shirt to the bed and accidentally kicking Byers in the head in his struggle. Chaz laughed, the sharp, open sound a poor excuse for help as the cussing started.

     “ -- lucky you didn’t take my _eye_ out!”

     “Well it’s not my fault! Why didn’t you let go?”

     “I didn’t want to be rude! Jesus, Langly, have you even _heard_ of manners?”

     “Says the guy with his -- ”

     “And must you always be so vulgar?” Chaz reached across from where he knelt next to Langly, now sprawled askew up the bed, and brought a finger up under Byers’s chin. Langly stuttered as Chaz leaned over him, rant faltering as he curled his fingers around the back of Byers's head and pulled him in to shut him up.

     Byers flushed and fumbled, noises of wordless surprise and indignation falling into soft, breathy sound as he melted hopelessly against Chaz's lips. Langly couldn't hide a rueful little smile. It was so quintessentially Byers, the bloody sap. Chaz pulled back, and Byers had to blink a few times before refocusing on the men in front of him.

     “Sorry,” Chaz murmured, “didn’t mean to make a scene.” The sincerity of his tone was totally lost against the shit-eating grin on his face. He slid onto his side and ran a hand back onto Langly’s body, tracing the curve of his hip in and down, grazing his inner thigh. Langly angled his leg outward, pelvis tilting, an invitation that Chaz gladly took.

     “I feel like there aren’t many things you do unintentionally.” His mouth quirked as he reached up for Chaz, dragging him down to fit in against him. He radiated heat, an unreasonably lean furnace, fingers made of sin entertaining themselves with Langly's body as Byers edged his way back up to his ass. He fumbled for the bottle of lube, anticipation making him clumsy, making him shiver, almost knocking it off the bed before grabbing hold and pitching it against Byers.

     “Hey, I wish,” Chaz muttered, with a roll of his eyes. “I fuck up a _lot_.” That teasing hand edged up to cup Langly’s balls, toying with them, pulling them forward as he turned to watch Byers’s face (a face may as well have always been that shade of pink for how often it was tonight). He drizzled more lube onto himself, dripping excess onto the bed as he watched Chaz’s hand before finally clicking it shut with a soft curse.

     “You good, Byers?” Langly actually took care not to kick the man between his legs this time as he rocked gently under Chaz’s hand, hips a lewd invitation. Byers nodded, eyes still hopelessly gentle as he smiled back at Langly and lined himself up.

     “As I’ll ever be.” He paced his breathing this time as he slid back in, ever so slowly, no less tight on the second try. “Holy shit, Langly.”

     “You know, I’m starting to believe my ass is a religious experience.” His shoulders curled against the bed for the second time, trying to relax as Byers stretched him out again.

     “Well, at least I understand why Special Agent -- _ahh_ \-- why Reid keeps coming back.” The grin on his face was still a little breathless as he set an easy pace, all angles and rolling motion. Langly nudged his head toward Chaz, letting his own hand wander along pointed ribs and taut muscle, letting out a wanton moan against that slender neck as Byers began to pick up the pace. Chaz eyed Byers, watched the ways he moved -- deeper, then shallow, almost perverse in his exploration -- and with no small effort, looked back to Langly.

     “You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were cute, in a nerdy kind of way.” Chaz grinned as Langly scoffed, long fingers curling around the flesh that had begun to drip again along his belly. “But this? I had no idea you could look like this.” _Whoops._ Now that was a lie, wasn’t it? But Langly’s lips were smiling against him, and he stuffed a passing flash of guilt aside for later.

     “Yeah, you did. For the same reason you know what’s going to happen if you start doing that.” His own hand came to rest on Chaz, finally, where he lay mercilessly hard against Langly’s hip. He mirrored the slow, light strokes; teasing, toying, tempting. “Not that I’m complaining. Fuck, wring me out and keep on going.”

     “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I think that’s the intention.” Byers grinned down at him, feeling his hips rock between himself and Chaz’s casual grip. “And… don’t take this the wrong way… but Langly?” Byers shot Chaz a quick wink as he leaned Langly’s legs forward. “Shut up already.”

     “Make m-- _hhngh --_ ” Langly’s eyes rolled back as Byers snapped his hips forward again, counterbalancing between the footboard and Langly for the leverage he’d been looking for. He all but pulled Langly back against himself as he ground in, finally picking up his pace, heart pounding in time with the bed.

     “Holy fuck, holy mother of sin, Byers -- _yes!_ ” He tried to keep the motion in his wrist steady, though a small corner of his mind told him he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Chaz followed the rhythm Byers set, Langly driving up into his fist with every thrust, an increasingly incoherent pile of sound pouring shameless out of him.

     Chaz’s eyes all but glittered as he watched Byers watching Langly, aim and tempo merciless, eyes still intent even as his jaw began to drop, small noises dying in the back of his throat on each thrust. “You know what the word is for the way you look right now?” He was whispering to Langly, but it was Byers whose eyes he caught. “ _Debauched_. Absolutely wrecked. Look at the way you’re spread out for him. Fuck, you take him well, and he knows it.” Byers might have flushed at that, were his skin not already suffused with heat and lust, red radiating down his chest. “Look at him, Langly. You know he’s watching you? He loves the way you look on his dick, absolutely _satyric_. Just _look_ at him.” Byers let out a small, strangled sound, eyes falling to watch Chaz’s hand before closing entirely. He straightened up, changing his angle slightly as he continued to drive into Langly, not losing his pace, tension showing in his shoulders. Langly clutched at the bedsheets with one hand while somehow managing to keep the other on Chaz, and tried not to choke on the obscene noises he was making as he turned his head.

     “I can’t see, smartass.”

     To his credit, Chaz managed to stifle a near-maniacal laugh before he ruined the moment. “Totally blind. Right.” Didn’t stop Langly from trying though, he noted. He looked up to where Byers was riding the very air out of him, moaning, whimpering, voice pitching higher and higher, probably missing the way Byers opened his eyes with a breathless smile of his own.

     “Show me,” Langly stuttered suddenly. Chaz’s hand stilled. “I know you’ve already got one foot in. I can practically taste how badly you want it. _Oh, fuck_ , Villette.”

     “Like a man drowning,” Chaz confessed, and was that a hint of amusement? He cocked an eyebrow at Byers, who gave a couple short nods of his head.

     “In for a penny,” Byers reassured him. He recentred himself once more as Chaz looked down at Langly, listened to the desperate noises he made at the change, at Byers driving into him. Chaz shifted his balance to move his free hand up, working his long fingers into Langly’s hair, pulling ever so gently at his scalp.

     “Make no mistake: you’re paying for room service after this.”

     The effect was almost instantaneous. Langly had underestimated just how much of himself Chaz had still been holding back. He came with a shout as the tide washed over him, unadulterated carnal desire held in tight control, the smell and sounds of sex so close, hands barely on him a torment. And even as his nerves screamed, white-hot pleasure thrilling through him, it distantly occurred to him that this was a two-way street -- Chaz could see what he saw (sweet fuck all), and could feel what he felt (sweet fuck, yes). He heard himself cry out in another voice, in his own ear, at the feeling of Byers slowing, grinding his orgasm out of him. Hands clutched desperately at his hair, Chaz's lean body clenching, rutting against him, riding out the wave as Langly throbbed in his grip. It was only as he began to come back down that he realized Chaz hadn't followed him over, managing to hang on by the tips of his metaphorical fingers, painfully hard from the onslaught of sensation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: how's it going up there, Byers?


	3. Chapter 3

     "I'd apologize, but I'm really not sorry.” Langly's laugh was still mostly panted breath. Chaz huffed in weak reply, his own state not much better. He darted his tongue out, tip catching a bead of sweat as it trailed down Langly's hairline, Langly's faint disgust lost in simmering arousal and the taste of salt and sex. Chaz moaned. Langly moaned. And between their legs (his legs?), they heard Byers echo them.

     And oh, but Chaz was right; Byers was the very image of debauchery. He had one arm braced against the mattress where he'd fallen forward, the other wrapped around Langly's thigh. His normally coiffed hair was unkempt, lank with sweat where it begun to hang across one side of his face. Not so low, though, as to obscure those half-lidded eyes, glittering and intense and inexcusably blue. His mouth was half-open, breath coming in ragged gasps, another weak noise dying in his throat as Langly began to stretch out; he was still buried in the unyielding clench of Langly's ass.

     “Holy fuck, you're gorgeous.” _Shit_. He hadn't meant to say that. He was pretty sure he was the one who'd thought it, though, even as it was Chaz's eyes that roved over his ruddy skin. Not that there was any complaint from him; Chaz clearly enjoyed doing the looking. He was still hard enough to beat a man to death, and the things he was imagining doing to Byers were keeping Langly's flagging dick in the game. A sense of questioning pushed against him -- _curiosity, how far, desires, kink? --_ and Langly was reminded quite abruptly of the major hazard of this kind of intimacy.

_Caution,_ was the knee-jerk reaction, _soft._ Susanne's face flashed in his mind with a flare of anger, rage licking the edges of memory, that stupid, gentle, open look Byers got at the mere mention of her name. He shoved at it, the edges spilling out around his efforts like trying to slam a door on an ooze. The weight of Chaz's mind flooded in behind him, turning his attention away from the failing door, highlighting looks of a very different kind on Byers's face – focus, hunger, the way he watched Langly as he fucked him. Chaz wiped his hand on Langly's shirt before reaching to grab his chin.

     “Oh, _come on!_ ” Chaz pulled his face over before he could start in on a rant -- an unquestionable talent -- and brushed his lips against Langly's. Langly took the kiss, opening his mouth to it, and had almost settled as he felt Byers straighten up on the bed and reach down between them. He hissed at the way even the small shift of weight rubbed at his insides, and realized with a panic that he was going to back out.

     “Hang on.” Chaz levered himself up off the bed, one hand reaching out as he turned his head, palm out in the universal gesture for _wait._

     “What are you – where you goin', Byers?” His voice was pitched a hair too high for the words to come out casual, but Byers did as he was bid. He rubbed the backs of his fingers down Langly's thighs, along his ass, eyebrows twitched up.

     “Well you're... I mean, you...” His gesture was broad, encompassing most of Langly's torso where he'd made a mess of himself.

     “Byers, when I said I wanted you to wring me out and keep going, I fucking _meant it_ .” He laid a hand over the one on his leg, and dropped his hips against the bed ever so slightly. A suggestion. He tilted again, and Byers shuddered. Chaz drew a heavy breath, eyes turning back as Langly flashed him an extremely graphic image. He didn't _just_ want Byers to fuck him. He wanted to watch him come apart, to listen to the noises he make when he couldn't make any other anymore. And maybe it was a separate thought, or maybe it was because that was where his own weaknesses lie, but in Langly's mind that looked like Byers taking it. It looked like Byers getting filled up and crying out, ass up, shoulders down, rubbing off against the pillows under him...

     The grin on Chaz's face bordered on predatory as he amended Langly's fantasy, batting it back to him. The pillows were gone, and Langly was still on the end of his dick, riding out any relief Byers might otherwise get from Chaz behind him, Langly's own face blissed out underneath him. It was received with a strange blend of excitement and skepticism, and Chaz almost laughed out loud as he realized Langly's concern.

     There was no way they were going to talk Byers into letting Chaz put something of... _those proportions_ inside him.

     Honestly, assuming this was his first time (and all evidence suggested it was), Chaz couldn't really blame him. But, it _was_ something they could work with, and even as his mind began to work out the logistics he felt Langly's enthusiasm rattling about, shivering, clamouring with want. _So impatient_. He pushed himself up onto his knees, knowing Langly was watching as best he could, hands roaming along Chaz's skin, along his own.

     “I don't think he's quite done with you, yet,” Chaz whispered. He made a show of raking his gaze down Byers's body before dragging it back up, smirk firmly in place. “And honestly, I doubt you're quite done yourself.” Byers nearly choked.

     “It's okay, Chaz. Maybe he just wanted to change positions?” Langly grinned up at them, one hand stroking lazily along his belly before coming across a puddle of... well, himself. “Oh, son of a --” Byers laughed out loud, a sudden, uneven noise, and Chaz was forced to roll his eyes.

     “Langly?” He didn't need to articulate himself for Langly to catch the hint – _shut up already_ \-- but Langly had never been good at doing what he was told. He crooked a finger at Chaz, who turned as the hint slid across his mind, leaning over as he was bid. He offered his finger, slick as it was, and Chaz let it glide over his tongue. Langly didn't need to say anything, but for Byers's sake he made the effort.

     “Shut up, yourself.” And fuck, but the way Chaz licked his finger into his mouth was obscene. He let it rub down the length of his tongue until in a couple slick strokes he could lick at the last knuckle, teasing him before withdrawing.

     “Shut myself up? If you insist.” He cocked an eyebrow before lowering his face to Langly. He nudged his nose along the trail of hair above his groin, fingers ever so gently holding him out of the way as he licked at more of the semen that had landed on Langly's flesh instead of the shirt and sheets. He groaned at the taste of himself, at the warm breath ghosting over his skin, at the way Chaz seemed to enjoy not just the act but the performance of it, the weight of Langly's gaze on him, watching as close as anyone could. Chaz straightened back up, momentarily satisfied, an entirely feline smugness on his face. Byers had definitely stopped laughing.

     “You do fine work, John.” He turned and leaned forward, ever so slowly, giving him a chance to move away, but Byers was dead still. Chaz paused a hair's breadth away from his face, so close he could feel the shiver, and closed to kiss him. Byers lapped at his tongue as he offered, timid at first but hungry, pressing deeper at the taste of Langly on him, bringing a hand to the back of Chaz's head to hold him close. Langly reached down to toy with himself and watched Chaz's hips move involuntarily with the sensation, felt himself already trying to thicken again in his hand. Langly decided he might die here, and realized he had fewer regrets than he'd expected.

     Chaz reached a hand out to Byers's back, fingers trailing, feeling the way he rocked forward, part excitement and part sensation. Langly wondered what kind of reaction he would have to his thumbs digging in, massaging tendons and nerves, and Chaz raised an eyebrow. _That's a thing?_ His brain, eminently helpful, pulled up an image of Reid – bent over and whimpering, hands working his pelvis and nothing else, the pleasure almost a torment – before he could slam it back in its place.

     So much of what was in Langly was Reid, and Chaz stopped himself before he could chase that down. He pushed for something different, less personal, and Langly took the offered lead, shoving away that strange, fluttering feeling in his chest. Byers pulled back, shooting a quizzical look between the two of them.

     “You're way too perceptive for your own good, Byers,” Langly muttered from the bed, no real bite to his tone.

     “Here. May I?” Chaz brought his hand up to press gently between Byers's shoulders; a suggestion, nothing more. Langly spread his legs to make room for him to lean forward, tucking his shirt to the side before reaching out to touch him. His hands roamed over soft skin, arms and chest and red hair, as Byers settled his arms to either side of Langly and leaned in. He could feel Byers beginning to relax, to soften, even as he stayed where he was bid, and Langly's displeasure echoed into Chaz. He bit his lip and rolled his hips, tightening and releasing around him, trying to tug him back into motion. And judging by the hard bob of his Adam's apple, Byers caught the hint. He started to move in small increments, following the slow, shallow pattern Langly had started.

     Chaz slid behind Byers, careful to mind the mess of legs. There was something terribly private about what was going on right in front of him, and he studied the rest of the situation with a determined intensity. He brought his fingers down along Byers's spine, tracing the ridges of bone down to his pelvis before realizing that part of Langly was still guiding his hands. _Time to change tack, it would seem_. He slid a suggestion over, and Langly choked out a moan, ever so obliging.

     “God, I can't get enough of those noises he makes for you.” Chaz cast his eyes about the bed, searching. “He loves the way you fill him up, you know. The way you stretch him out. Hell, the way you curl your hips...” Langly began to puff out strangled noises behind his teeth, neck stretched out, eyes rolling shut. He hooked his legs behind Byers's back, and Chaz watched as Byers responded almost immediately with a shift in motion. “So careful. So _precise_. The way you angle up into him... you really hit. the. spot.” Langly cried out as he did exactly that, and Byers's head dropped, barely-whispered sound falling from his lips. Chaz trailed his hands across his pelvis and down, strokes light along his ass. Langly screwed his face up and his eyes shut, and, caution to the wind, let his mouth run.

     “Fuck, Byers, you feel incredible. If I'd known you could feel like this, I'd have fucked you years ago, anywhere you'd have me. Stakeouts in the back of the back of the bus, trying not to get caught by the neighbours. Bent over my desk and hanging on for dear life, just to see how long I could take it. Hell, I'd take you to the library and fuck you between the stacks, just to see if you could keep your mouth shut. Fuck, I don't know if _I_ could keep my mouth shut.” Chaz let his hand wander, crossing low over Byers's cheek and down the inside of his thigh, feeling the way he shivered and stuttered between Langly's words and his touch.

     "You can't,” Byers choked out. “Universal constant.”

     “Bet you couldn't, either.” Langly arched an eyebrow past him in Chaz's direction and articulated for Byers's benefit, even though he already knew the answer. “What do you think, Villette? You wanna find out?” Chaz schooled his face into the most reassuring expression he could.

     “You don't have to listen to him,” he murmured to Byers, hands smoothing back up along his skin as his rhythm faltered. “But, if you're interested... I promise I can be gentle.” Langly's own hips were still rocking, his dick dripping onto the spot Chaz had previously licked clean. Byers paused above him, forehead furrowed.

     “You're... you're actually considering it. I know that look.” Langly ran his fingers gently through the close-cropped line along his jaw. “That's... _holy shit,_ Byers. You want that? You wanna get fucked into me? You wanna feel,” he rolled his hips, “how good this feels?” Chaz waited, watching. Byers's eyes skittered sideways, shoulders tensing, and Chaz shook his head.

     “Might be a bit much for him, all at once. Why not start with just a little?” At this, he traced one hand slowly, slowly back down, the light pressure of his fingers running so close to the cleft of his ass, never quite touching. The tension didn't move from his shoulders, but the way he bucked up into Langly, the way his eyes widened as he snuck a glance at him, guilt failing to hide curiosity and arousal... Chaz was pretty sure they had their answer, and from where he was laying, so did Langly.

     “Just a little,” he echoed, catching Byers's eye again. He gulped, mouth clamped shut, and after a couple tries, managed to offer a small nod. Langly grinned.

     "Can't hear you, John.” Chaz clung to his given name, trying to maintain some separation between himself and Langly. He was holding the mirror tight to himself, close as he could without losing the connection it entirely. The clamour of thought was getting distracting. “You want that? You okay with me touching you like that?”

     Byers looked into Langly's eyes. It felt like drowning.

     “Yes.” He cleared his throat, voice strengthening. “Yes. I mean, not to...” His colour rose again, to Langly's incredulity. How was he still blushing, at this point?

     “Not to my dick, I get that,” Chaz clarified, and Byers nodded. “But my fingers?” Byers gulped, but nodded again.

     “Yes.”

     Langly offered Byers the most reassuring smile he could. Chaz scooped up the bottle of lube where it had fallen back into the folds of the bedding, a pleased grin on his face.

     “Very best, then. You relax, and breathe, and let us know if you need anything.” He popped open the little bottle, coating the tips of two fingers before snapping it shut. He dropped the bottle next to them, and moved just off centre to improve his angle. “Just keep doing what you're doing.”

     Slowly, tentatively, Byers began to roll his hips again, pushing up into Langly. Chaz let one hand smooth over the skin of Byers's ass, parting it, and slid a slick finger from the other down until he found his mark. He let it rest against the softest skin, tight and fluttering as Byers faltered, hesitating just a moment before resuming slow, intentional motions. He turned his head, face brushing the palm of Langly's hand, and with naked faith on his face, laid a kiss in the centre of it.

     Chaz struggled to maintain control as Langly's heart squeezed inside him. He was choking on thirty years of affection, of a different kind of intimacy, and Chaz seriously considered pulling the plug. If he couldn't hold it together, this was going to go completely sideways.

     Of course, his best hope for a distraction was literally at the tip of his finger, and as Byers rocked back, he slid in.

     Byers twitched from his pelvis to his hairline, but to his credit he was able to find his rhythm again within a few strokes. Chaz kept his hand cupped around his ass, letting him swallow him up, telegraphing the show across the line. Langly's mind finally stopped clattering around as he curled his finger ever so slightly, and he savoured the faint tremor that ran through the man between his legs.

     “Relax on it,” Langly murmured. He rubbed his hands up along the tension in Byers's upper arms. Some of his own experience ran around his memory, trying to recall a time when so little still felt like so much, and Chaz bit back a moan. Langly slid him a purely gratuitous visual -- the first time he'd tried out his butt plug -- punctuating it as he pushed back onto Byers, hand sliding loose and sloppy around his cock. It took an unreasonable amount of willpower for Chaz not to grab hold of his own.

     “So far, so good, John.” He grabbed the lube, tipping out a bit more to drizzle down his fingers. “Keep it up. This is where it gets interesting.” Pulling almost all the way out, he tucked the second finger against the first and started to push again. He watched the way Byers opened, stretching, flexing, working around him as he slid in. Langly groaned, eyes fluttering shut as Chaz catalogued every last graphic detail -- warm, and so tight, velvet-soft against the pads of his fingers. Byers whimpered, hips stuttering, and Langly clenched his hand hard around the base of his shaft, trying not to lose it again already.

     "Still good?” His own voice was starting to come out strained as the waves of Langly's pleasure began lapping at him again. Turned out the man was capable of very singular focus, if he put his mind to it. Byers nodded, and Chaz _tsked_ him. He readjusted the angle of his wrist, rubbing gently at Byers's insides. “If you can't say it, show me. Show me you want it, Byers.” Too distracted; he failed to catch himself on the last name. Langly was tugging at himself again, panting as Byers began to rut into him in earnest

     “I – I do. Please.” He was thrusting back as well as forth, pushing further onto Chaz's fingers, all but fucking himself as his pace increased. “Please. Please. _Please_.”

     “The hair, Langly,” Chaz suggested, his grin loose and voice gravel. “Try the hair.” Langly opened his eyes to look up, finally catching the cue that Chaz had picked up earlier. He reached his free hand up and tangled it in Byers's mussed locks, tugging at him just shy of kindly. Chaz finally grabbed hold of himself, wrist working, his own pulse demanding in his ears. Byers drove into Langly all the harder, chest heaving, biting back desperate, keening noises as the fist tightened in his hair.

     “Like this, hm? That work for you, Byers?” The look on Byers's face hoped for mercy, even as he gave a couple sharp nods of his head. There wasn't a shred of self-control left between them, and Langly's mouth decided to push its luck. “God, I want to fuck the life out of you, it's true, I want to watch you lose it.” His own hand was working, his nerves screaming, dragging out Chaz's last reserves. “You wanna lose it for me, Byers?”

     Chaz curled his fingers, both hands still pumping and the small, inchoate sounds Byers had been swallowing poured out of him in a howl. He arched his back, stuttering, hips trying to bury him deep as they could as he went over the edge. He clamped down around Chaz and throbbed into Langly, and this time, as Langly spilled again, Chaz let the current of pleasure drag him down with it. Heat blistered under his skin and down his thighs. Behind his eyelids, the world went white.

     Slowly, gingerly, he pulled back out of Byers as he came down, catching a small hiss of breath. He pulled out of Langly next, folding the mirror back into himself. Looking around, he grabbed the nearest scrap of errant clothing to wipe his hand with, and finally collapsed sideways onto the bed. Byers followed suit, half-falling, half-lowering himself to rest his head against Langly's chest, trying to catch his breath. They lay there a minute, marinating in the smells of sweat, sex, and southern heat, before Byers finally pulled out. He rolled off the condom, barely making it to the trash before collapsing on Langly's other side with a groan. Langly looked around for something to clean up with, and reached blearily for whatever it was that Chaz had grabbed.

     “Oh, _fuck you_ , Villette. You couldn't have used your own clothes?” Chaz opened an eye to squint at the patterned fabric in his hand. He tossed it over with the barest hint of a shrug, reaching for the nearest cell and pitching it to him next.

     “Clothes are the least of your concerns. There's a whole page of creole on the menu.”

 

 

 


End file.
